Lashes and Fire
by Navel of the Turtle Man
Summary: All he wanted was an easy kill. A target without a fight. Now he has SOLOMON on his tail and a fifteen-year-old witch with a power that scares even him. This was NOT what he had in mind. Cleaned up version. Half-AU.


Amon gave a hard sigh.

An easy mark—that's all he'd ever asked for. One that didn't involve spilling his own blood or losing what few belongings he had. For years now, he'd believed such a job didn't exist, but tonight, he'd been forced to reconcider.

Kicked back in an old chair with a bottle of gin, the dark gun-for-hire was the epitome of sullenness as he pondered the picture in his hand.

A girl of no more than fifteen. Elegant features. A pale heart-shaped face, her hair tied high in handle-bar tails. Eyes hidden behind dark square glasses, and a deep, haunting in her face.

His latest sin: Robin Sena.

Strange that the frames were professional, and more expensive than any less than a government dog could afford. She looked too young for Solomon work, but somehow she had already gained the attention of Solomon and (consequentially) him.

_"Treat the target with caution-there must be minimum damage to her body."_

_"Is she dangerous?" he'd asked._

_"Unlikely," was Zaizen's only reply._

Such a large bounty on the head of a child. How could he turn it down? Yet it struck him as strange that the corrupt bastards would hire a man outside their own ranks. Why risk a leak to get rid of her? Was she _that_ important? It made no sense.

Unless she were a threat.

Blackmail? Possibly. Someone's dirty little secret? Probably. But didn't they have other, more obedient and (more importantly) disposable soldiers to handle this?

That alone had his hackles raised; If she were truly enough of a threat that Solomon's hands had to be clean of the actual kill, that might not mean they had to be clean of his blood.

Despite his "severing ties" with Solomon six years prior, Zaizen had been unwilling to relinquish full control over his favorite pet. It wasn't until the introduction to the use of the barbaric "Orbo" that Amon had called it quits. Bullets made of the essence of Witches-God if he'd ever heard of something more disgusting.

Still, if he could get in, kill her, slip out the closest exit, and get as far from town as possible, he might just be able to keep his own skin bullet-free. They'd paid in advance-no doubt ready to take the refund from his corpse.

The specific place they'd designated he dispose of her body at was also bizarre, and though he'd sometimes had clients pay him extra to arrange the body in some specific position for religious or romantic reasons he supposed the mark would understand, he doubted Solomon was so sentimental.

Why did they want her delivered to this, "Factory?"

Some might call him a monster for the innocent blood he would shed tonight, but Amon knew better than most what kind of life awaited a pretty thing like her; a dead end in a brothel if her father was half-decent, and a one-way trip to the slave stocks if he wasn't. Better she go out clean and innocent, rather than the half-wretch she'd become.

A green light on his watch began to flash, and Amon pulled out a bottle of white pills, extracting three.

_Really, _he told himself, swallowing them dry. _I'm doing her a favor._

!-*-!

Standing outside the decrepit doorway of the abandoned church, Amon cocked his gun and checked the address one more time.

Yep, this was the place.

Easing the door open, he winced as it creaked like a crack of thunder in the silent yard.

If he was lucky, she was too far into the grounds to hear it.

With a crunch of dead leaves, he stepped into the courtyard that had once been the connecting point between an Abby and the main church. A ruddy glow was cast around the area from the canopy of autumn colored leaves that clung to the branches of wild trees and vines, giving off a dreamy, fantasy-like feel. Graceful doorways, rooftops, windows, and arches crumbled in piles of white stone everywhere, leaving gaping holes in the walls.

Amon scoffed.

_Set to ruin by the war no doubt. _

Moving through the largest hole and heading up the only stairs in sight, he reviewed the minute knowledge he had of the girl.

_Supposed to be hiding in the bell tower, right? No known defense or attack skills. Ran from her home with her grandfather a few years back. Got screwed by the government and that's all she wrote. And they call that a wrap sheet?_

Normally he didn't take jobs unless he knew absolutely everything about the mark, but beggars can't be choosers when your wallet is empty and your stomach hasn't been full for a month.

He popped another two pills. Just in case.

Like the professional ghost he was, Amon slipped between the ancient pews, moving from shadow to shadow and playing up his dark coloring to go unseen. His steps were no more than the wind shuffling the fallen leaves. Eventually he was drawn up crumbling steps, towards the door in the back that was full of soft light.

At the top of the stairs, a broken door hung open, giving glimpses of a stained glass window, broken furniture, and thick rope that led to a large bronze bell.

The only sound was the soft breathing of a huddled form and the crisp _swish_ of turning pages.

He slipped inside and pointed his gun.

The girl's back was to him.

"Don't move," he warned.

She froze.

"Are you here to kill me?"

Her voice was soft and young.

"Yes," was his cool reply. "Turn around slowly."

She turned, her eyes clamped shut. He could see the glasses from the photo and a thickly bound book hidden in the folds of a voluminous dress and a decaying red coat. Her hand moved to grab the glasses.

"Don't move," he said again. Her hand was still.

"Open your eyes," he demanded.

"That's a very bad idea," she half stated, half pleaded.

Amon could feel his nose crinkle and one brow lift.

"Why?" he asked.

Her lips formed a smile that was more of a grimace. "They sent you for my eyes."

_That makes absolutely no sense,_ he decided, _since Solomon wants the whole body._

"Open your eyes," he repeated more firmly.

She chuckled weakly. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

When the long lashes finally fluttered open, he lost his breath. A pair of eyes as big as nickels looked back at him with alarming greenness…those resplendent green eyes...Emerald and forest green flames shifted and moved within those haunting portals as if the colors were alive. Amon had heard an old man once say that a person's eyes are the windows to their soul. If such a naïve saying was true, then this girl's soul was on fire. Literally. And the flames were fast spreading to him, burning at the edges of his mind.

Suddenly his skin was too hot-too hot! The heat was inside him, curling and filling every nerve ending and making his eyes water-

Was that smoke he smelled?

When he spoke, there was no malice in his voice, though he tried to snarl.

"What are you doing to me, girl?" he asked, barely above a whisper.

But all she did was stare, with those great and terrible eyes.

With every ounce of willpower he possessed Amon wrenched his lids shut and turned his head away so quickly his neck popped.

"S-shut your damned eyes!" He was appalled to find his voice stammering with pain and anger. Even Zaizen hadn't been able to provoke an emotion from him and here this girl, this _target_, had shaken him so thoroughly…

Now he knew why she wore tinted glasses.

"I told you it was a bad idea." There was fear and amusement in her voice now.

A sharp sting in his hands made him lower his gun and Amon watched in horror as the beginnings of blisters made themselves known on his palm.

"What…what are you?" At least that line came out somewhat emotionless.

Chancing a look at the girl, he found she had replaced her tinted glasses and was smiling at him sadly.

"I believe I am what you might call, a witch."

!-*-!

Looking back on it, Amon wasn't sure what drove him to do it.

Maybe it was the too calm tone of voice she'd used to describe Solomon's involvement in her life-

_"They made me burn other witches and kept my grandfather alive in return."_

_"What changed? Solomon says you went rogue."_

_"They couldn't hold up their end of the bargain." _

-Or the way she had politely but pathetically asked him to kill her as quickly and painlessly as possible-

_"If you're going to kill me, could you make it quick? Prolonging the inevitable is such an unnecessary torment."_

_"You're really ready to die?" Even he was surprised by that. He'd never had a victim under sixty accept death so easily. Her smile became sympathetic._

_"If I weren't ready, you'd have been ashes when I opened my eyes."_

_Something in his gut assured him she wasn't lying._

-But when it came time to pull the trigger, something in his stupid suppressed conscience had crawled into his gut and point-blank refused to budge on the matter.

Needless to say, the girl was _not_ dead.

_Damnit, damnit, damnit! What was I thinking? No mere _child_ could be worth this,_ he thought, berating himself over and over again for that brief moment of insanity that had gotten him here: running for his life with a witch brat and pair of bullets in his arm.

Really, he should have known Solomon would have him followed. He'd stupidly figured the agents would try and "clean him up" a little after the hit, not _right_ after. Stupid, really.

What he _hadn't_ expected, however, was the full scale assault staged by a pro-hit squad of Zaizen's finest.

He was losing his touch.

_They're scared to kill a little girl, so they send a washed up pro, then let a bunch of ametures try and knock me off?. Nothing is adding up here. On another note, should I feel proud or pissed that they were willing to go all out for me? I guess my reputation still holds some weight. _

Despite his inner rambling and raging, Amon kept his icy demeanor firmly in place as he nursed his arm. There was no way the brat was going to get the better of him again.

He was counting on the gun still clutched in one hand and the truly frightening aura that all but palpably emitted from him to keep her cuddled in her corner. As such, it came as a shock when she started ripping long strips of her skirt and moved to kneel next to his wounded side. Without preamble, she tugged at his shirt, trying to get to the injury, only to be pushed away by an irritable bounty hunter.

"_What_ do you think you're doing?" he said coldly.

As if in answer, she pulled a small bottle of what looked suspiciously like soap, if the label was anything to go by. She gave him a look that said rather clearly, "You saved my life so I'm going to fix you if you'll hold still," then tugged again on his shirt.

Conceding, he let her clean and tie the holes, doing no more than wrinkling his nose in displeasure when she-he couldn't believe he'd let her do it-_sucked_ the bullets from his shoulder as if they were poison.

While she worked, Amon let the events following his decision not to shoot run through his head like a strip of film, analyzing his memories for helpful information.

In reflection, it could have been much, much worse.

_He had been watched, probably from the moment he'd left the inn, and her, most likely through the broken windows of the tower by the sniper placed somewhere on the west side. No sooner had Amon lowered his gun were the two under fire from a shower of high powered bullets. Apparently the girl had good instincts she had instantly copied Amon's crouched position against the wall. After the first barrage, Amon knew they would have scant minutes before the foot soldiers came storming in to finish off whatever was left of them. _

_Standard procedures had saved both their lives. Knowing exactly what the enemy would do next had aided him in grabbing the girl by the arm and hauling her out a window onto the roof. Imagine his surprise when the girl had taken the lead, bringing him down a creeping vine on the side of the wall to a balcony and through a narrow corridor so hidden in shadow, only one who knew it was there could have found it. _

_Curious. Perhaps she'd been in hiding there longer than Solomon thought. _

_The loud footsteps and shouted orders had alerted them to the knowledge that the enemy knew they had escaped and were spreading out to search. Amon gritted his teeth. If the idiots weren't bothering to keep their movements quiet, then either they were really cocky, or had the place so surrounded, their chances of escape was too narrow to bother._

_Not good._

_By utilizing every shortcut and skill the two possessed, Amon and Robin had avoided direct confrontation until their brief, out of breath stop in the ruins of a library. _

_"Where is the most direct path out of here?" he'd barked. He prayed the girl had a few more architectural tricks up her sleeve._

_"Through the back gates in the garden."_

_"Then that's the route they'll have the most heavily guarded. We need another escape plan." He waited for her suggestion. _

_"There are always the trees." At Amon's confused look she explained, "If we can get to the south wall we can climb the trees and escape into the forest behind the church."_

_Amon nodded. Smart girl._

_Unfortunately, they'd only gotten a few steps out the hole in the far wall when a circle of six armed black clad figures had them surrounded. _

_He was really starting to regret taking this job. _

_Weapon at the ready, the dark man searched desperately for a way out, _any_ way out as he kept Robin out of the direct line of their weapons' fire. _

_"These weapons are meant to stun only; we don't want to harm the girl," one said. Amon wasn't surprised; they'd gotten the same orders he had-minimum damage to the girl. Only _these_ ones thought they could bring her in alive. How stupidly merciful. _

_"If you give her to us, you will not be harmed."_

_Bull shit. One of the oldest rules in the book: secure the target then kill the collateral to ensure proper disposal._

_Apparently, while he debated the best course of action, Amon had failed to take three things into account. _

_One, Robin had removed her glasses and was looking directly at one of the soldiers. _

_Two, though the weapons in their hands were loaded with Orbo capsules and meant to subdue, Robin had targeted this idiot in particular because the gun in his hands was most definitely packing lead._

_Three, people on fire tend to react badly. _

_Due to this error in observation, it wasn't until the man started screaming in pain-his skin bubbling disturbingly with heat-that Amon and the others noticed the situation behind them. In blind panic (and no doubt a lot of pain) the man had fired at them randomly, screaming as his flesh was burned from the inside out. _

_On shear instinct, Amon had shot an arm behind him to wrap around Robin's front, just in time for two bullets to burry themselves into his shoulder instead of her chest. Ignoring the pain, he'd grabbed her nearest hand and began shooting, feeling the sting of the Orbo casings brake against his back as they tried to get a clear shot at the girl. _

_Sometimes, being mostly human had its perks. _

The events following his shooting had been a rushing blur of pain, adrenalin, running, and being pulled by his good arm through dense tree branches, until Robin's careful maneuvering shoved him through the mouth of an underground cave he hadn't even noticed.

Just how long had she been hiding out here, Amon had to wonder?

They would be safe here, he decided. The cavern was deep enough in the side of the mountain, with faint light emitted from the glowing algae at the bottom of a small pool.

He'd instructed the girl to stay away from the mouth of the cave and swept the area around their entry free of foot prints with a branch. There was little likelihood of and of Solomon's lot tracking them inside. They had a few hours before they could go anywhere, but he was content with stocking up on his rest. Best break while they could.

Soon enough, the girl had finished tidying his arm, binding it tightly. Amon rolled his arm, finding it painful, but bearable. He'd taken worse.

"Thank you," she said quietly. "I know you're in big trouble because of me."

Amon grunted. The girl paused.

"…Why didn't you do it?"

Amon didn't answer.

Robin sighed and moved to the back of the cave, watching water trickle down the wall.

"Robin?" he finally said. The girl looked surprised he was addressing her by her actual name, but cocked her head in response. "Do you have any idea why Zaizen might have sent _me_ after you?" He was hardly the first choice someone might make for this kind of job. Then again…

She shook her head no. "I have no idea. No one's ever mentioned anyone like you in Solomon that I heard. But then again, I wouldn't really know; I don't actually know your name."

She didn't, he realized. There'd been no time for introductions.

"Amon," he grunted.

She nodded. "Nice to meet you Amon."

"Do you at least know why they're taking such extreme measures to get rid of you?"

She shook her head. "I thought it was normal for rouge Witch Disposal. My kind can be so dangerous-," but he cut her off.

"_Can_, being the key word." He shifted his arm. His palm itched, longing for his gun. He'd lost it somewhere along the run. Could cause problems for them in the future. "I've seen a few Witches out there, most who could blow a building across a continent, and you're hardly one of the dangerous ones. If I hadn't looked at you, you'd be dead by now."

_Liar, liar, _his conscience teased. Damn, he was going to need some serious meditation and a hard poke from a q-tip if he was ever going to get any peace.

"…"

"…"

"…So…now what?"

Amon grunted again. Hell if he knew. He wanted some food and rest and a nice hot bath before he thought about anything. Not a set of likely luxuries, but hey, a man can dream.

"We need to wait a while before they move on. Until then, we should get some sleep."

She nodded. "I'll keep first watch. It's the least I can do."

He couldn't have agreed more.

!-*-!

Several hours later, Amon was being lightly shaken awake. Had he been in better condition, his reflexes would have had her pined with a knife pressed to her throat before she could blink. However, his body was far too fatigued to do more than bat her hand away as he came too.

"Amon, I'm sorry. I would have let you sleep some more, but your watch…"

The light was flashing, and he turned it off. Sitting up, he withdrew the bottle from his pocket and took another dose of the tiny capsules.

Damn. He was running low. Again.

"What are they for?" Robin asked him, eyeing the unmarked bottle suspiciously. Probably thought he was some kind of junkie.

"I have a…condition. These suppress it."

"What kind of condition?"

Amon didn't answer. He was too busy staring at the pendant around her neck.

"Where did you get that?" He asked, gesturing.

"Oh, this?" She undid the chain and handed it to him. Running his thumb over it gently, he pondered where he'd seen the strange shape before. "I don't remember where he got it, but my grandfather gave it to me when I was small."

A red crystal in a diamond shape with a black cross connecting the corners.

_Where, where, where…_

Amon's insides went cold.

"Have you ever heard of 'Project Eve?'"

Robin frowned.

"I don't think so."

Amon's mind was whirling. This girl was wearing the symbol of one of them most highly classified projects in all of Solomon's history, and she had no idea!

Later, after he'd sent the girl to a corner to sleep, he pondered this new development.

Rumor had it that Project Eve was a master plan to "handle the Witches." Its roots dated back to the supposed "Covenant of Witches" and the "Adam and Eve" of all Seeds and Witches alike.

Though he didn't know the details, what Amon _did_ know now was that Robin was most definitely tied to the project. Perhaps a failed field experiment? Any direct genetic ties to the Adam and Eve would be closely monitored, even terminated.

Perhaps he'd just interrupted that extermination.

_And my grave just keeps getting deeper…_

Unfortunately, it was all starting to look too deep to climb out of. Solomon would never let him rest, and if he abandoned Robin, he would likely be abandoning his ticket out. They were going to have to get to the bottom of the mess before he could get on with his life, so to speak.

He groaned inwardly.

Whether he liked it or not, Amon was stuck with the girl for the remainder of this little adventure.

He clenched his fist.

Great. Just what he always wanted: a teenage freak of nature with as many social skills as him.

This was going to be a very _long_ adventure.

THE END!

* * *

I love cliff hangers.


End file.
